Wild Blue Rose
by Victoria Nope
Summary: When Blue Rose was first handed over to Allenville Penitentiary, she didn't know just what would happen to her. Or just how badly Paul Crewe would need a receiver on his team. Maybe Knauer/OC, it's a possibility.
1. The Greeting Song

A/N:Like I said, here is Longest Yard fic, just because I can. And because I am in love with Willaim Fichtner. AND because I love this movie. I don't know if this will turn out to be a Knauer/OC pairing, but hey, I guess we'll find out, huh? Feed back is loved. Happy New Year's, here is a present.

Before we get on to my story, I supppose I should tell you my name. My parents (who happened to be the peace and free love hippies that never really left the sixties) christened me Blue Rose, and let me tell you, that is possibly the worst name you could give to a child, it ranks right up there with the people who try to name their babies Satan or Hitler. It makes sure that no one wants to known someone with a ridiculous name, and leaves you feeling unwanted, which, incidentally, begins my story.

Not being wanted gives you a bad feeling in your stomach, and a nasty taste in your mouth that is comparable only to the taste of blood. But nothing compares to the feeling you get when you're told that no _prison_ wants you around.

Well, the ones in New England didn't, anyway. They were either too full, or thought I was too dangerous. So, here I am, on the bumpiest bus ride ever, headed towards a prison in the middle of some thirsty desert. I could taste the dust in the back of my throat, and honestly wouldn't be surprised if I started coughing up little clouds of it. My only company on this little trip happens to be guards from the prison, and they seem too busy talking about football to care about me. What _I_ care about, however, happens to be the collection of rifles they all have, and how many rounds each one holds. I'm a gun nut, you see, one of the reasons I'm in this little troublesome situation, and what was really bugging me was that I couldn't for the life of me remember what that particular model of rifle was called.

I was so deep in thought I didn't notice when we arrived at our destination until I was roughly pulled into a standing position by one of my escorts. "Come on, princess, time to join the party." I remained silent as I shuffled down the stairs, attempting to keep my balance as my wrists and ankles were hooked together by a long thick chain that also went around my waist. I vaguely remembered that it was called a T-chain or something like that.

I hopped off the last step, not trusting myself to making the long distance because I didn't want to drop on my face. Great first impression that would be.

The man that greeted my little posse and I was a tall, ranger looking type with dark sunglasses, and he even had a cowboy hat to top it off. Being in Texas was starting to make me miss people that weren't dumb rednecks, even if the people up north were fairly ignorant too. The man placed his hands on his hips before saying in a (surprise, surprise)southern drawl, "Thank you Sergeant, I'll take her from here. Aftenoon, Ms. Rose. Warden would like to see you. Come on." He started walking towards the giant, castle-like fortress called Allenville Penitentiary, place many called home. A rough shove caused me to almost fall forward, but I managed to catch myself, and started to follow the Cowboy, soon walking in front of him, that ugly blue bus following slowly behind me, along with my entourage. The Yard was just as dusty and parched as the world outside Allenville, and I let my eyes run over the layout of the place. Guards in tall towers surrounded the prison, and each man had the same model of rifle, the one I was currently struggling to recall. The men all stopped their various activities and turned to stare, eyes wide as dinnerplates, and I felt all the dirty looks I was recieving, but I was a pro at ignoring people. I've had years of practice, unfortunately.

_Was it a Ruger Mini 14? No, it wasn't proportioned right...Definitely wasn't a Remington 870 either._

Finally it came to me!__ _Howa Axiom .308 Winchester bolt action precision rifle. Gotcha. ___It took me a second to realise that the bigger of my two escorts and I were alone, and that made me feel rather nervous.

He removed his sunglasses and I noted the color of his eyes, which were brown and flat like a cows, and he gave me a nasty smile as he looked me up and down with a lecherous gleam not unlike the ones the inmates had been giving me.

"You don't look as threatenin' as every one's been sayin'."He was right, I suppose. I was about 5'6 and running miles early in the morning and late at night kept me slender. I had skin that held a year round tan, and I almost never burned, even without sunscreen, and just a few hours in the sun turned me golden. I held his gaze with my own unique stare, my right eye being green and my other blue. I had a mouth my mother declared as pretty (I made _Deliverance_ jokes whenever she said that) and it seemed to be made for smiling. Too bad I never smiled that much. My light brown hair could've been beautiful, but I detested it long, and a prison barber hacked it off before I was sent here so it was screwy looking and sticking up, like I had stuck my finger in a light socket, except for the shaggy bangs that slightly obscured my eyes.

"I'm sorry to disappoint, sir." I said in my heavy New York accent, and made to move forward, towards what I hoped to be the Warden's office, when his nightstick came up and into my stomach with almost super human speed. I moaned loudly and dropped to the ground hard, unabled to catch myself as my hands were still chained. I panted and tried to roll the pain into a miniscule ball I could deal with, but to do that I'd have to have air in my lungs.

"Yeah, you don't look threatenin' at all, little lady."

"Guard Thomas!" A slightly familiar voice came from down the hall, and I recognized it as belonging to the Cowboy guard, and Guard Thomas quickly pulled me off the ground.

"Wasn't very nice." I whispered painfully as Cowboy came walking towards us.

"What happened here, Thomas?"

"She fell, Captain." Cowboy looked at me, then back to the guard before taking off his sunglasses and revealing eyes as bright and as blue as a gas flame that were alive with, dare I say, intelligence. I was always a sucker for blue-eyed boys.

"This true, Ms. Rose?" I gave a glance towards my attacker and nodded briefly, which caused Thomas to smile rather nastily in my opinion. My rescuer shook his head and also gave a little half-smile before suddenly getting real close to the other man's face. "Remember that I am the one running this prison, Thomas. I will not deal with men like that on my team. We clear?"

"Crystal." Cowboy took me away and down the hallway I had been intending to go down, and knocked on a door, sparing a glance towards me before he opened the door.

"Ah, my newest addition. Blue Rose, am I correct?" The Warden, an old man who looked like a drawing of Ichabod Crane come to life, came up to me and shook my hand, confusing me. What, did he want to be all buddy-buddy with me? An old, fat looking version of Colonel Sanders resided at the smaller of the two desks in the room, and was fanning himself in the disgustingly hot room. I almost started laughing as _"I say, Mr. Beauregarde." _popped into my head, but mercifully I kept a straight face. "This is Harold Dandredge, but political adviser. I'm running for govenor, you see."

"I suppose I should congratulate you, sir." The skinny old man chuckled at my words and waved his hand as if to dismiss my comment.

"They see the way I run this prison, and think maybe I should run this state. Now there are two things we take very seriously here in the state of Texas., and they are prison and football. We play a little of the latter here."

"The Warden is too modest to admit that his team is rather good, Ms. Rose." The Colonel stated, and it rubbed me the wrong way that all of these people were addressing me as if we had met at a gathering. _Ms._ Rose this and _Ms._ Rose that.

"But not good enough." the old man said firmly. "Five years since our last championship. Five years. But that's not why you're here. You're here because I would like to make an offer to you. I would like for you to help my guards while they're practicing out there on the field, give them towels and drinks. I feel that you would be safer there, Ms. Rose, and it would allow the guards to keep quite a close eye on you. What do you say?" I hesitated, choosing my words carefully.

"Well sir, I appreciate the offer, but I'm afraid not." He turned instantly cold and got very close to me

"Now, I can assure you that your time here will be a whole lot easier if you just agree." I shook my head a little.

"I'm sorry, Warden, but my answer is no." The Ichabod Crane look-a-like shot a look at Cowboy, and turned away.

"If you'll excuse us, Ms. Rose. Captain Knauer you can stay." It took me a second to realise that's what Cowboy was called. I exited, and sat gingerly on the leather couch next to the secretary's desk as the door to the Warden's office closed. The lady behind the desk shot me a smile, and I heard brief shouts coming from the door I had just left, and I bit the inside of my cheek in slight worry. The Cowboy, whose name was apparently Captain Knauer, exited the office.

"Come on, Ms. Rose, time to show you your new home."

"Yes, sir." I murmured, wondering just how pissed off I had made the Warden, and just how screwed I really was.

X X X X


	2. Breaking the Girl

A/N: Chapter two! Booyah! If you haven't noticed already, I'm naming every chapter after a Red Hot Chili Peppers song. And yes, I do love RHCP. Review and so on and so on and so forth. Reviewing encourages me to upload faster.

Let the record show that I _really_ don't like being stared at. Unfortunately, being a member of the female sex, it happens from time to time. I'll let you decide how uncomfortable and twitchy I felt in the lunchrooom of the prison, with all those peering eyes trying to undress me through the plain white shirt and blue prison pants I had donned before Captain Knauer had dropped me off here. I moved through the line to get...well I wouldn't really call it food, but I suppose it might be considered edible in extreme circumstances. I scanned the room after the substance had been scooped on to my tray, and took in the large metal walkway above the room, and my eyes lingered on the guns the two men possesed as they slowly patrolled back and forth over the prisoners.

I forced my eyes away and looked for an open seat, my heart sinking slightly when I saw nothing but a bunch of hungry stares, and they weren't thinking about _food_. A whistle snapped my head to the right, but it wasn't a catcall, more like a "Yo! Look over here!" kind of thing. A skinny brown guy with astonishing white teeth waved me over, and I gratefully walked in his direction. I dropped my tray down across from him and he favored me with smile I didn't return.

"Girl, I don't think I've seen someone walk in prison before and cause everyone to drop whatever shit they're doing. Then again, a female has never graced our midst before." He held out his hand and I shook it. "Name's Caretaker, and whatever you need, I can aquire it. Weed, meth, Prozac, and I can even get you _McDonalds_."

"What? No way. For real?" I asked, my eyebrows raised.

"Yeah I got a guy, name's Cheesebruger Eddie." He pointed to a large black man with no hair handing some ugly, very obese man a packaged burger. I suppressed a smile, and poked my steaming food with a scrunched up nose. If it smelled as bad as it looked, I would have opted out of a tray.

"Name's Blue Rose. And I might be taking you up on that last one." Caretaker looked a little incredulous. "Yeah, I have a stupid name, and my parents dropped too much acid. Or they thought a plant made my mother pregnant and were just guessing at the father." I offered, and blew air upward towards my choppy bangs, but they just fell back into my eyes like always. The thin man laughed as I looked around the room again.

"What can you do for me about the company of a cute guy?"

"Well you'll have to lower your standards...a _lot_, but you could have your pick of any guy in here, girl, except for those distinguished ladies over there." I followed his gaze to a group of...well, I didn't know what those guys were, but they had cut their clothes to resemble a female's (they were wearing make-up too), and the mixed gathering waved emphatically at me. I slowly waved, a little taken aback.

"I think I'll pass on having them for my chick friends. I might consider hanging with a serial killer to be better company. And I don't think _any_ guy could have me, Caretaker. I have a feeling our big strong guard friends might consider themselves too high and mighty for me. See you later." I left him with a grin on his face, and started walking to dump my tray, when I saw a big dude plant himself in front of me. I turned around and two more of his buddies were already there, each one of them as burly as the first, with sick smiles on their ugly faces. It looked like my odds weren't really that good, and I had a feeling they weren't going to get better.

"May I help you, gentlemen?" I asked in my deep accent, my mind whirling though all the possible moves I could make, and all the moves these guys could _stop_ me from making. All went tense as the inmates watched the little group, but they didn't stop talking, probably to not alert the guards that something was going down.

"Yeah, little girl, I think you can." The first man I had encountered replied, my back still to him as I eyed his companions warily. I stiffened as I felt a large hand trail lazily up the back of my right thigh, and it traced slow circles as it reached my hip. In an instant, I had tossed my tray of hot food all over him, and I felt the vibrations go up my arms as I hit him upside the head with the piece of thick blue plastic. He went down with an audible thump on the hard floor, and that's when things went crazy.

His lackeys attempted to grab me, but the entire room had erupted into mass chaos. Everyone started fighting someone else, whether or not they even knew of each other's existence before five seconds ago. I felt my head rock back painfully, and something trickle out of my mouth. I recovered and, straightening up, I laid eyes on one of the lackeys who had my blood on his left fist, and a smirk on his face. I took advantage of the giant fight that I had started, and used it to get up close to the gigantic man, and I landed a kick straight to his knee. I heard a sickening crunch as my shoe connected _hard_. When he bent forward with a shout, I took his big bald head, and I slammed it into my own knee.

"_HORNET'S NEST!_" I heard someone next to me call, and I felt myself get dragged to the ground by none other than my new friend, Caretaker. A deafening explosion echoed through the room, and I felt something sting my face right across my cheekbone. "Second nest in two weeks, and the second _fight_ in two weeks. Damn girl, you're just as bad as Crewe! You white people sure know how to stir it up." I snorted, and wiped the blood from my mouth, noticing that another thin stream was trailing down my face from the new graze under my left eye.

"_STAY DOWN!"_ I recognized the voice as one of the guards who had brought me here, but the sound of approaching feet interested me more.

"Come on, Inmate, on your feet." I felt a hand grab my upper arm and haul me into a standing position, and my eyes found the brown bovine gaze of Guard Thomas, my bestest friend in the world. "What the hell did you think you were doing?"

"Making some new friends, sir." I explained, standing tall and refusing to back down under his hateful look.

"You may be a female, Inmate Rose, but you're no different than any other piece of worthless ass that walks into this shithole."

"Oh, but I think I'm marginally _prettier_ than those boys, sir." I gave him a look of wide-eyed innocence, and I heard the laughs and snickers of the grounded men behind me. Guard Thomas' slap yanked my head to the right, and I spat blood on the floor before turning to face him again. "You know, I'm getting _real_ tired of that, boss. It's not polite to hit a girl. Just think what your _mother _would say." He rose his arm to hit me again, but I caught his hand, my eyes hard.

"You're going down, _Rose_." He said, his teeth clenched, and he tore his arm out of my grasp before sneering at me. "You get a turn in the hotbox."

"Oh, joy."

X X X X

_Oh no._

I lost count of how long I had been in here, but it seemed like an eternity.

I lost count of how many times I thanked God I wasn't claustrophobic, but it seemed like a lot.

I lay on the floor of the hotbox, my white shirt off to reveal the white exercise bra that they had given me. (Thank God it was one of the sweat wicking ones.) Apparently underwires can be made into weapons. Go figure. I knew I must be dehydrated, but I didn't really care. What bothered me was the lack of sound my companion in the box next to mine was making. Either he died, passed out, or didn't like talking to me. I was hoping for the second one, because he sounded like a nice fellow. I heard the sound of an approaching car, and I slowly scooted over to one of the metal holes in the tiny space, and peeked through. I watched one of the guards drag my companion out into the sunshine, where I was able to see he was unconscious.

_I owe myself twenty bucks._ I thought, then jumped when I heard a loud banging on the door to my own box.

"You had enough, Rose?" A remarkably bland looking man demanded, and I wiped my hand across my still healing mouth, and it came away damp with sweat.

"How long have I been in here?" _It must've been a month at least._

"Two days. Ready to join the boys in the general population?" _Are you mentally challenged? OF COURSE! GET ME OUT OF HERE!_

"Yes sir."

He unlocked the door and I stepped out into the light shakily, hoping that my legs would support me for a while. The man glanced at the white shirt in my hand, and his eyes were drawn to the long, red scar that marked me from the middle of my left ribcage, across my stomach, and ended at the top of my right hip bone. Seventy two stiches had been required to keep my insides _in_.

"Why is your shirt off, Inmate?"

"It was rather hot, sir." I responded, wiping my face with the shirt.

"Wouldn't you prefer your shirt to be on?"

"Not at the moment, sir." He gave my scar one last glance, and then dragged me into the blissfully cold car. Jesus, when I got out of this place I was moving to Antarctica, and I was going to roll in the snow _**NAKED.** _The drive back to the cell block was silent except for the whir of the air conditioner, and the purr of a beautiful piece of automobile. I was pulled out of the car and escorted across the giant desert of The Yard, around the large football game that was going on where I spotted Caretaker, and I threw a quick wave his direction. He raised his hand in acknowledgement, but looked surprised at the twisted scar I showed with indifference. Or maybe he was just surprised I was shirtless, I didn't know either way.

_Wonder if who's coaching the team_.

Anyway, I was dragged along towards a part of the prison I hadn't been in yet, and I felt my stomach drop a little as I saw my destination.

The showers. A place of..._discomfort, _in polite words. I thought of _American History X_, and internally grimaced at the thought.

Amazingly, they were all empty, which led me to assume everyone else was either in the cell block, or chilling outside. The bland guard gave me a change of clothes and some shower stuff, and gruffly informed me that he was keeping watch so no one would bust in and "hurt a pretty thing like yourself". I would serously be worried for the guy that came in, not because of the guard, though, because of what _I_ might do. I stripped, and stepped under the metal fixture, turning the knob to as hot as I could stand it. I gave a sigh of pleasure as the searing hot liquid pounded down on me, and the room quickly filled with steam.

I scrubbed my skin until I was satisfied that it was no longer grimy, and I washed my hair three times to clean it sufficently. I toweled off and pulled on the clothes that had been left for me, before knocking at the door to let the man know I was done, and the door opened. I walked through it quickly, my mind and hands preoccupied with trying to smooth down my hair (a futile gesture), when I crashed into a tall, solid mass.

I sprawled onto the ground and winced as I hit tailbone first. I looked up to see who I had run into, only to discover I had run into someone I didn't want to at all.

"Oh-I-I'm-" I stammered as I tried to crawl to my feet, only to fall a second time...

And be caught by Captain Knauer.


End file.
